


So Many Little Slips

by SapphireIsle92



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alcohol, Canon, Character Development, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Gallavich, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Mild Angst, One Shot, POV, Pining, Smoking, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-08
Updated: 2017-11-08
Packaged: 2019-01-30 02:54:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12644688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphireIsle92/pseuds/SapphireIsle92
Summary: This is a One Shot that takes place sometime between S03xE02 & S03xE05, before they've had their first kiss and before Mickey knows anything about Ned.Mickey makes a stop at a neighborhood party to make a quick drug deal and happens to see Ian there as well. Things had been pretty good between them, especially since ending his last stint in Juvie, but he still refused to acknowledge Ian too much in public. Things were still a secret after all, so he never approaches him.But during his walk back home, he receives a phone call from the same person he'd left behind and just couldn't ignore him a second time.





	So Many Little Slips

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work that also takes place several months after my 'Reflections of Release' piece, to show some of Mickey's development since then. So, to have a bit better understanding of a lot of his background thoughts, I'd recommend reading that one shot first. :)  
> I think this one definitely has a much lighter atmosphere to it though.  
> Also, please beware of needed edits. I'm working on it. :)

It was relatively warm outside for a late September evening in Chicago, but windy and clear, with a bright night sky and a faint speckling of stars twinkling dimly from behind thin whisps of clouds. He kept his feet steady and his stance hard, but enjoyed the breeze against his face as he crossed the street and turned a corner toward another block. Blue eyes twinkled as they passed beneath a street lamp and the cherry of his cigarette burned a bright, hot orange, making his face glow as his feet found the shadows once more, keeping on his way. 

Despite have to walk four blocks across the neighborhood and would soon have to briefly deal with those he'd hardly so much as spit at, Mickey was actually in a pretty good mood tonight and had been quite a lot lately, as unusual as it normally was for him. His father had been released from jail recently, but unlike any other time, instead of his house falling back into the same routine of abusive disarray it always did when the man returned, this time it was a little different. Mickey had expected his father to spend most his time at home again since he was finally out, but the man was fortunately much more focused on making up the money and business that he'd lost while he was inside. This meant that more often than not, his father was gone out on runs, often taking his older brothers with him and was hardly home at all, leaving Mickey all alone, just the way he liked it. 

Yes, without the constant random beatings being sprung on him or the awful, hateful slurs his father would always so viciously scream into his face when he was drunk, Mickey had begun feeling quite a bit better, a little lighter, almost even peaceful at times. And even though he still kept on a mask, still tried so very hard to uphold his hardass reputation, and at least from the outside, still appeared to be the very same hateful, violent, derogatory, Southside piece of shit he was always, Mickey didn't always feel that way, not lately. Lately he'd just felt better in most every sense of the word, like some pressure had been lifted and he wasn't so weighed down.

He usually had the house to himself, still had the security job at the Kash N' Grab that Ian had hooked him back up with after leaving Juvie again, made enough money to keep booze in the fridge and smokes in his pocket and the only runs he had to make were petty, little drug deals that simply kept something coming in while his father was away. He also still had Gallagher, still had Ian and whatever it was that was still going on between them, though he still tried not to think too hard on it to try and figure it out. Things were easy for Mickey right now, simpler than they almost always were and he was finally starting to let himself get a little more comfortable with it, started to let himself slip a little more often than he usually did.

Mickey crossed another street as he approached a house that had every light on, a loud boom of music wafting out from it's windows and a steady trickle of teenagers moving in and out of it's doorway. Every year right after classes began, there was always someone who would throw a party prepare for another semester, as if all the others held at the end of summer could never be enough. And every single year said party would be packed, though Mickey never, ever attended one. Even though he'd be a senior this year, he hadn't attended school since he was a freshman and didn't typically like people anyway, so what the fuck would be the point? Mickey was here for one reason only, and intended on being in and out as quick as possible, not interested in staying anyway. He held his usual unimpressed frown, pulled a final drag from his cigarette before flicking it to the ground and closed his distance to make his way through the front yard and went inside. 

A few were suprised to turn their heads and see the youngest Milkovich son grumbling his way through the crowded hallways of the party, but most weren't knowing full well that he was known for dealing drugs and was probably just there to make a quick exchange. Perhaps because of this, combined simply with how well known he was, many moved aside when they saw him coming and if they didn't, Mickey wasn't exactly quiet about telling them to move. 

"Get the fuck outta my way before I take that fuckin' beer bottle and shove it up your ass!" he boomed to a particularly drunk looking sophmore who happened to stand in one spot just a little too long, then shoved past him with a hard elbow and an irritated glare.

Mickey hated shit like this and it was obvious by looking at him as he searched around for the dumbfuck that'd made him walk all the way up here to sell him some blow, keeping a stern face and a hard strut as he moved deeper into the gathering. He began to grumble under his breath and almost thought fuck it, turning to leave because fuck if he was going to wander around aimlessly looking for the scrawny coke head he was supposed to be meeting there, but paused suddenly when he noticed a different gaze watching him from a distance. 

Across the room, leaning against the wall near the back door with a beer in his hand, stood a very familiar redhead, with deep green eyes and a smile that always made Mickey feel stupid, little fluttery things floating around inside his chest. He was a handsome young man that Mickey knew quite well, thought of much more often than he'd ever admit and always seemed to distract him from whatever else he was doing, no matter how hard he tried not to let him. It was Ian, bearing a rather relaxed demeanor, but looked a little surprised to see Mickey, happy to see him, even, watching as he gazed right back over across the way nervously chewing his lip. 

'Fuck, he looks good,' Mickey thought, then blinked and looked away, peering around him a bit to make sure no one else had seen him staring the way he probably had been, remembering what he was here for and refusing to be distracted. He looked through faces a bit more, but hadn't quite started moving again yet, subtly letting his eyes fall back over to the warm set of eyes he could feel still lingering on his skin, then chewed his lip again. 

Ian looked alone and for some reason that made Mickey happy, knowing he wasn't here with anyone else, even if he knew that he could never be seen with him himself. But he also knew how the redhead felt about him, how he'd always really felt about him and knew deep down it wasn't fair for Mickey to expect him to be alone forever just to wait, just to hope, for something that Mickey may never be able to reciprocate. So, he just let himself look again, let himself think, like he'd begun to do so much more in recent months than he ever really had, and contemplated for just a moment, in walking over and greeting him, in letting himself slip. 

But the instant the thought crossed his mind, he saw Ian smile a bit, tip his chin in offering and he froze, suddenly much too nervous to do anything of the sort, even if just approach him, not in public. He started to shake his head just slightly, not wanting anyone else to notice him do it, when a short, thin body knocked into his shoulder, causing him to turn his face away with a scowl.

"There you are, shithead," said Mickey, "'Bout fuckin' time," he added, pushing the boy back a bit, letting his focus shift away from the redhead across the room, then stuck a finger in his face, "You ever fuckin' make me look around for your ass like that again, you're gonna end up eatin' some fuckin' teeth," he warned with a glare, "You hear me?"

His potential buyer nodded quickly and almost seemed to cower, clearly intimidated by him, then straightened back up slightly, still looking at him. The dark haired man gave him a sweeping expectant glance, then hardened his face again, raising an eyebrow and looking at this kid like he was fucking stupid. 

"Well, where the fuck's my money?" spat Mickey, gesturing toward him with both hands, then dropping them with impatience. 

The boy flinched at his tone, then scrambled for his pockets to search them, all the while the man in front him just tried to ignore the gaze he could still feel radiating across the room and tingling his pores. Mickey thumbed his lip, then scratched the bridge of his nose as he tapped his foot with a suck of his teeth, before this scrawny kid finally retrieved a small wad of crinkled, green bills. His fingers fidgeted as he sorted through them, trying to smooth them out a bit, before the boy very cautiously peered back up at a steadily agitating Mickey. 

"How much is it?" the boy asked in a small, shy voice, to which the dark haired man widened his eyes a bit, split his face into a deeply incredulous expression and shot the him a hard chin tip. 

"Are you fuckin' kiddin' me?" Mickey scoffed, "I gotta fuckin' go through this shit with you again?" he asked as he snatched the boy's money from his hands and counted through it himself, "A half gram is fifty," he replied, like he'd already said it a hundred times before, "Always fuckin' fifty. Never fuckin' changes," Mickey said as he sorted out fifty bucks, took an extra ten for his trouble of having to search for this dumbass, then shoved the lessened crumble of paper back into the kid's chest. 

"Remember that shit or find someone else," he advised bluntly, tucking away his cash, "I'm sick a fuckin' repeatin' myself," the man added, as he slipped a single hand inside his other pocket to fish through, then extracted a tiny square bag filled with a fine, white power, looking back up as he held it between his middle and forefinger. Mickey scoffed at him once more, shook his head, then flicked it at him, chuckling a bit as he watched the kid fumble around to catch it.

"Don't use all the shit at once now," he mocked as he took a step back, "Might lose that one fuckin' brain cell you got left, man," quipped Mickey, then turned to walk away from him and move back down the hall, ready to get the fuck out of this shithole.

But as he walked, that gentle, lingering trickle of deep green eyes on his skin was still there, still pulling at him, luring him, urging him to look back up. So he slipped, just a little bit and raised his face to find them again, but not needing to search, knowing right where they were. Ian was still leaned against the wall, slowly sipping on his beer, watching Mickey without any hesitation or shame, probably figuring it was much too crowded for anyone to notice anyway. Mickey didn't stop his steps, but he slowed down his pace a bit, just letting himself look once more as well, even if just for the briefest of moments. 

Even though he saw him pretty often at work, where they never missed a chance to lock the store and sneak away to the cooler on a slow day or a smoke break, he hadn't been scheduled for the last two days, so he hadn't really seen him at all. Mickey'd gotten quite used to having Ian's company most every day, and the last few without him had just felt a little off for him, a little dragging and slow, a little empty, as much as he'd never show it. He missed him, and knew he did, that he always really did, though he still always tried to ignore it, even if he never really could. 

But sometimes, he just didn't want to ignore it and even had other times where he felt he shouldn't have to, that no one had to know how much he misses him anyway, or how strongly he'd been growing to feel for him for so very long. Now was almost one of those moments, nearly pausing his feet to offer a quick head flick and see if the redhead might follow him out the door, so he could have him alone for a while. But deep down Mickey was still afraid, still nervous, still much too worried that he'd let himself feel too at ease with how things were between them and that someone might find out. So instead he resisted his urge, let his eyes sweep quickly down the other man's body, as if subtly memorizing him for later, then looked away as he passed through a different archway and out through the front door.

As Mickey crossed the street and began to walk, he lit another cigarette, inhaling deeply as he passed back under the street lamp, letting his mind wander a bit as he did. He was allowed to have thoughts, something he'd finally given himself the privilege of, though voicing it was always still an extremely difficult feat, sometimes simply unspeakable. But thoughts were different, private, something he could easily lie about if he was ever confronted with them and that seemed to help, on some level at least.

So as he made his way back home, he let himself think, let himself slip a little more deeply, fondly reminiscing about those same green eyes he'd caught the fortunate sight of just a short bit ago, about bright red hair and the lean, hard muscles covered beneath his clothes. Mickey thought of the strength of his body, the firm, hard grip of his hands and the way the man's breath would stutter and fall heavy in the seconds before he'd have an orgasm. His skin tingled with a pleasurable shudder, then he pulled another thick drag of smoke, hoping to calm himself back down, not wanting to grow hard and have to continue his walk hiding an uncomfortable erection in his pants. 

He had nearly approached his house, about to pass under the L, when he felt a buzzing inside his pocket that made him jump and choke on his smoke. Mickey coughed and flicked his burning butt away into the darkness, then pulled his phone from his pocket with a squint, feeling his heart beat twice as fast as he scanned over the name on his screen: Gallagher. He took a breath and let it ring for a moment before he answered, refusing to fucking smile as he slowed his steps once more and swiped his thumb across it.

"The fuck you want?" Mickey greeted, trying to sound annoyed even though he wasn't. 

"Why'd you leave?" Ian's voice came through with a query of his own, the music behind him faded as if he'd stepped outside before calling. Mickey scoffed and creased his brow.

"You expected me to fuckin' stay at that shit?" he asked back like it was a ridiculous question, hearing the other man chuckle in response, listening to him as he did and letting just the smallest, creeping hint of a smile pull at the corner of his mouth, before he hardened it and tilted his head some, "I was only there to do a fuckin' deal, man," said Mickey, "In and fuckin' out," he explained, knowing Ian already knew that about him. There was a slight pause and he could feel the redhead thinking, hesitating, before he spoke again.

"Where are you?" Ian queried much more smoothly than Mickey expected, causing him to be the one to hesitate this time. 

He knew why Ian was asking and honestly felt a little anxious, and suddenly a little excited that he'd called, still really wanting to see him again, like he always really did. But Mickey was stubborn too, almost refusing to give in, no matter how much he didn't want to resist it, roughly chewing his lip, then thought 'fuck it,' and slowed a bit more. He still just fucking missed him. 

"Walkin' under the fuckin' L," replied Mickey, "'Bout to be back at the fuckin' house," he said. 

"Stop," Ian directed instantly and the other man couldn't seem to control his feet when they did. 

"What?" Mickey blurted, screwing up his face, as he stood in place within the shadow of the L track, confused now to say the least. 

"Wait there," the redhead requested, now sounding as if he were up and walking himself. The dark haired man kept his phone to his ear, but turned to peer around him a bit, then raised an eyebrow as he stood back straight. 

"The fuck for?" Mickey shot back with very little heat, the pulse of his heart rising and the tickles returning along his limbs because he already knew.

"Just wait there," Ian repeated, but before the other man could respond any further, the line suddenly went dead.

Mickey pulled his phone away from his ear, staring down at it as he slipped it back inside his pocket, then peered around again, his heart now pounding stupidly through his chest. His breath slowed as he finally moved his feet again, just taking a few short steps around the space, then looked down both sides of the track, knowing Ian was on his way here. But he didn't see him yet, so Mickey strolled down a short ways where several pillars met a wall and a dumpster, finding the area much more private. He approached the dumpster, stepped up on a box beside it to sit and wait, even lighting yet another cigarette because he just wasn't sure what else to do with himself at the moment. 

If Mickey had been told to 'wait' for anyone else, for any other reason, he'd of told them to fuck off quicker than they could ask and just gone home, but with Ian it was different, it always was. Even if he had been able to answer him before he'd hung up, he may have been a little difficult, but he still would have agreed in the end. They still had an understanding between each other, a sort of mutual trust and respect, which had only seemed to steadily intensify as more time passed, still always there when the other needs them even at a moment's notice. Ian had really been the only person Mickey ever had that with, and as hard as it was for him to accept sometimes, he was grateful for it and Ian was still special, even though he was still a secret.

Over the last year or so, when Mickey wasn't in Juvie, he and Ian had even grown to become friends, if you could even call it that, the only friend that Mickey had. Sometimes they'd hang out a little bit within their seclusion, sharing booze, sharing smoke and talking quite easily about nothing in particular. That's something friends do, right? Then again a friend doesn't usually let someone who's just another friend pound him in the ass after a few beers. So maybe that's not exactly what they were. 

Mickey also still hadn't ever invited Ian over to his house, something he just wasn't quite ready for, even though the redhead had been there a hundred times before for his sister. He knew somehow it'd be different if he was ever there for Mickey instead, still too nervous for such a thing, not quite yet. So, he really didn't know what they were if he couldn't even do that. But whatever it was, deep down Mickey cherished it more than anything else, something he was genuinely glad to have and wasn't sure what he'd do without it. It meant a lot to him, even if he'd never say so.

He waited and smoked his cigarette in the darkness but didn't get more than halfway through it when he heard the faintest patter of footsteps on the sidewalk up ahead, then saw a tall figure appear with a slowing stance and a pause to peer around beneath the track. Mickey inhaled a pull from his smoke, glowing it's cherry as the the figure turned his face toward him with a slight outline of red hair atop it's head, then exhaled as he watched him turn completely and begin making much more intentful steps over to him. 

There was light, but quite little in the corner Mickey'd picked, watching as Ian's form disappeared and reappeared from within the shadows of each pillar, noticing the same appealing smile he'd bore on him at the party still glued to his face. He had a hoodie on over his t-shirt now and a different bottle in his hand, this one larger, darker and probably filled with something much stronger than beer. Mickey sucked another drag as the redhead walked closer, trying to remain very nonchalant where he sat, not as happily anxious as he still was inside, refusing to slip again just yet. Ian tipped his chin and held his smile, clearly in a good mood tonight as well.

"Worth waiting for?" Ian asked with a raise of his arms, causing the other man to split a cocky smirk and gesture to his booze. 

"Depends on what's in that fuckin' bottle," replied Mickey as he smoked his cigarette, still sitting atop the dumpster.The redhead's smile widened as he stopped right in front him and offered it out to him easily. 

"Your favorite," said Ian as Mickey took it, turned it over inside his palm and smiled as well. 

"Whiskey, huh?" he observed, smirking back up at Ian with an arch of his brow, "You just tryin' to get me fuckin' smashed?" Mickey accused lightly, then pulled a drag and blew it out. 

"It never hurts," the redhead admitted with a shrug, earning him a chuckle and head flick. 

"Sit the fuck down," Mickey directed toward the empty space beside him, then shifted over some to give the man a bit more room, watching as he climbed up beside him. He noticed a bit of the booze had already been drank, but not too much, raising another eyebrow quite curiously as he twisted open the cap.

"You jack this shit from that fuckin' party?" asked Mickey, to which the redhead returned with a very smug, guilty grin, then shrugged again lightly. 

"They had plenty more," he defended and the other man just laughed, raised to his lips and tipped it back to take a sharp swig, scrunching his face a bit as he swallowed and passed it on over. 

"You're a stone cold fuckin' criminal, man," Mickey quipped with a smooth head shake and a sarcastic laugh in his throat, then pulled a final puff of smoke before flicking the filter to the ground. Ian laughed as well and took a long drink, then coughed as he brought the bottle back down. He handed it back over, then met his eyes. 

"You should have stayed," Ian said suddenly, deep green eyes moving delicately over his face, clearly already buzzed from his earlier consumption, causing the other man to scoff through his nose, pull his face back, then turn it away to drink. 

"The fuck ya talkin' about?" queried Mickey just before he took another, longer swallow of whiskey, trying to distract himself from the way the redhead always looked at him. Ian licked his lips and gave a blink. 

"You should have stayed," he repeated, "At the party," Ian clarified, then tilted his head, "Lots of free booze, someone pulled out a giant fucking bubbler earlier and didn't give a shit who hit it," he elaborated, trying to lure the man into perhaps giving it a try in the future, then lowered his voice some, "And I was there," Ian offered softly, still appearing to have no shame when the words made Mickey silently turn his sights on him with an unspeakable, knowing gaze, then shrugged, "Maybe you would have had fun?" Ian wondered aloud, still just looking over at the blue eyed man beside him. Mickey looked over his face as well, then thumbed his lip with a pause, before taking another quick swig and passing the bottle. 

"I don't fuckin' do fun, Gallagher," Mickey retorted, causing Ian to choke a bit on a sip of booze and look back over at him with an absurd expression, to which the dark haired man upturned a palm, "I mean like fuckin' people, man," he rephrased, then reached to snatch the bottle back from the now chuckling redhead beside him who didn't fight him in the slightest, "People always just fuckin' piss me off," grumbled Mickey, then gulped a bit of whiskey, enjoying the sting it left on his throat, along with the subtle buzz it quickly sent coursing through his veins. Ian laced his fingers together in his lap as he settled with a calming smile, then leaned toward him a bit with a tipped brow. 

"I'm kinda people though too, you know," Ian offered lightly, smugly, but kindly, smiling a bit wider as the dark haired man met his eyes and chewed his lip again.

Mickey looked at him, not quite sure what to say or what Ian expected to hear, the redhead seeming to put him in this predicament more often than not lately. How exactly was he supposed to respond to that anyway? That it was different with Ian because of how close they'd become, that they shared that silent, secret understanding beneath the surface, that deep down Mickey thought he was special? He hesitated a moment, curling his tongue behind his cheek, then dropped his eyes to the bottle in his lap, letting his thumb rub over it with a shrug. 

"You're different," he said, that being as far as he was willing to slip.

Mickey didn't look back up right away, but felt the very same gaze on him as before, the one that tingled his skin, rippled over his pores and refused to let him ignore it. So finally, he peered back over at Ian, unable to take the heavy sensation for a second longer and swallowed hard at what he saw. 

Ian looked... touched, like he'd never heard anything so wonderful in the entire world, his eyes filled with a mix of admiring longing and happy disbelief. He was looking at Mickey like it was the sweetest thing he ever could have said and the dark haired man suddenly felt incredibly nervous all over again. 

'Fuck,' Mickey's mind shook just a bit, not sure if he was entirely liking that look and hoping the other man wasn't going to try and do what he always did when he had it. But he knew his suspicions were correct when he saw Ian's glossy, green eyes soften quite heavily, then dropped to rest upon his lips with craving in their gaze. The redhead then slowly leaned forward, those same green eyes beginning to close and Mickey just tried not to panic, moving his face away just when he got too close, speaking defensively on his toes. 

"Aye, man, I know you remember what I told your ass the first fuckin' time and every fuckin' time after," Mickey warned as Ian's eyelids fluttered back open with confusion and he tipped his chin at him, "You keep tryin' to fuckin' pull that shit, you're gonna lose that fuckin' tongue," he threatened, with much less heat than he'd ever admit.

The other man sat back, looked away with a huff, then scoffed with a very dry chuckle, damn near rolling his eyes back in his head and shaking it as he did. He then turned his sight on him, reached for the whiskey, which Mickey let him take, then raised his eyebrows as he set it down on his knee before drinking. 

"If I didn't fucking know better, Mick, I'd say you were afraid," Ian dared, his mild inebriation speaking for him a bit, even though he clearly meant every word he'd just said. The other man stiffened some, but creased his brow and simply scoffed right back as he looked away again. 

"Ain't afraid a shit," Mickey countered quickly, not at all willing to admit how much truth the other man's statement held, how much it weighed on his mind, how much he'd actually, seriously thought about it, especially lately. 

There had been a few times where Mickey had seriously considered it, even almost done it, but he just wasn't quite there, not yet. He really was just too afraid, as much as he hated knowing that he was, how pathetic he often felt for it, but it was still just too hard. The redhead tipped the bottle back to swallow a long pull, then lowered it, looking right back over at him with a skeptical expression. 

"But you are afraid to kiss me," Ian insisted, tipping the spout of the bottle some to point it at him, still grinning a bit, almost as if he thought it a joke, but the disappointment was still there, laced into his irises and resting just behind his pupils. Mickey'd be a fool not to see it, even in the dark. 

Ian had said it to him a few times recently and even though he let it slide each time, he always told himself that the next time he said it, Mickey was going to prove him fucking wrong. But still, each and every time he just hadn't worked up the nerve, and silently cursed himself for it when the next time would come and still couldn't. There was another small silence as Ian took another drink and passed it over, looking away as he did, then chuckled again in a breathy voice. 

"It's okay, Mick," Ian exhaled, "I get it," he breathed as Mickey listened, taking a gulp of booze and swallowing his guilt along with it. Then the redhead turned his face with a much lighter expression and tipped his chin.

"Hardass fucking guy like you probably has all kinds of other ridiculous little phobias too," Ian quipped and Mickey's eyes suddenly widened as he stared into the other man's face, absolutely astounded by how bold he was being, forcing himself to bite his tongue a bit. He knew Ian had been drinking a bit tonight before meeting him here and tried to keep that in mind as he continued to listen to him speak. 

"I mean, bunny rabbits are really cute, but they have teeth that can gnaw your fucking face off," said Ian, causing Mickey to screw his face up a bit at the unexpected comment, "Kinda the same thing with kittens and their claws," he shrugged and the other man began to chuckle, "Or little fucking kids, at least in my experience," Ian added, his slightly slurred speech lightening the mood back up quite a bit, "They're loud as fuck, they're always sticky and you never know what's in their fucking pockets or if they can stab you with it," he rambled a bit, causing Mickey to outright laugh, shake his head, but relax a little again, letting the whiskey speak for a bit himself. 

"Shut your fuckin' mouth already before I shove my fuckin' cock inside it," said Mickey, causing Ian to raise his eyebrows with surprise, then hooded his eyes a bit with a sly smirk. 

"Ooh, is that a promise?" Ian asked, letting his eyes trace down along the other man's body, "Or do I have to beg?" he queried further. The dark haired man chuckled at the words, then pressed his lips together with a shaking head. 

"Why you always gotta make everythin' so fuckin' gay?" Mickey wondered, earning him a simple scoff in return. 

"You're the one talking about shoving your cock in another dude's mouth," the redhead retorted, then began to laugh a bit as he arched an eyebrow and held a very smug expression, "Not to mention you let me fuck you in your ass pretty much whenever I wa-Ow, fuck!" Ian howled suddenly as the other man's fist shot over to punch him in the arm. 

"I said shut your fuckin' mouth, man," repeated Mickey, his voice drenched with emphasis, still not quite used to Ian being so blunt about shit lately, not quite sure how he felt about it yet, but the redhead didn't appear to be very fazed, rubbing the sore spot on his bicep, leaning back over and smiling again.

"Or what?" Ian grinned expectantly and this time Mickey couldn't help but split a smirk back. 

"You think I won't fuckin' do it, huh?" Mickey queried lowly, rolling his tongue beneath his lip.

Some time ago, he may have had his issues with receiving blowjobs from Ian, refusing to let himself enjoy it because of how wrong it was supposed to be, how personal and intimate the act itself was. But as the weeks and months passed, and he let him do it more and more, Mickey had slowly begun to crave them when they fooled around, watched the other man more each time he did it and just let his restraint disperse, let himself slip and simply gave in. Even now, he'd gladly pull out his cock for him if Ian really wanted to drop to his knees and suck him off, even the thought sending an anxious ripple down along his pelvis that he tried so very hard to conceal. 

But as he looked at him, the redhead seemed to have other thoughts in mind, for other activities that he knew Mickey wouldn't turn down either, his gaze growing thick and heavy as he licked his lip and bit it. The dark haired man tried not to let his eyes flicker or the bottle slip from his grasp as he felt his anticipation quickly rising in a way that no one else could ever seem to do to him, watching as Ian moved a little closer to him and spoke in a deep, lustful tone.

"I'd rather bend you over and watch you take it for a while instead," he replied. 

The admission sent a shiver down Mickey's spine that twisted around to the front of his body and began to fill his cock, instantly arching a swift, sharp eyebrow back at him.

"That right?" Mickey asked in the same low voice, biting his lip as well as their eyes moved together through a hazy, heavy gaze and the other man merely hummed and held it. 

Ian had always had this effect on him, this way of making him let go of all the little things that had always held him back and just simply embrace what he knew he truly wanted, however deep down. It was the very same thing he'd chased every single time he had a chance alone with him, the release he could never find anywhere else, that only Ian could give him, the same hint of it that'd filled his nerves with anxious anticipation the second he'd called and told him to wait for him. Mickey could never seem to turn him down, couldn't say no, just didn't fucking want to, not with Ian, letting himself slip every single time.

He ran the tip of his tongue across his lip, let his eyes fall for just an instant to admire the other man's build, eager to feel it firm, hot and pressed against his back, then set the bottle down beside him, meeting his eyes with a very seductive gaze of his own. 

"Come get the fuck on me then, man," Mickey invited with a head flick toward a nearby pillar that stood alone in the shadows.

The redhead's face brightened, quite visibly excited about the other man's acceptance, then unzipped his hoodie as he jumped down from the dumpster, Mickey following suit. They each shed their sweatshirts as they moved over toward the pillar, Ian even pulling off his t-shirt as well, which Mickey very openly stared at as his fingers began to fumble with his pants. He then turned around, pushing his pants down to his knees, and rested his forearms against the pillar with a bit of a lean, exhaling heavily when he felt Ian approach from behind him to press his chest against his back. The redhead pulled his pants down to his knees as well, then wrapped a single arm around Mickey's waist, slowly rocking himself into him, grasping a hold of his hip with the his other hand, just wanting to be close to him. And Mickey let him, times like this being the only times he ever really would, quietly enjoying the contact as well. 

Mickey had always had rules with Ian that he'd laid out from the very beginning that he never bent, that he set in stone and refused to ever change or alter. But slowly with time and with Ian's patient persistence to keep trying, he'd slowly begun to rewrite them, just a little bit. Mickey reciprocated a lot more now, having learned that with Ian he safely could, that the redhead always kept their physical interactions private and wouldn't try to hold any of it against him, that Ian was just as vulnerable as he was. 

When Ian spoke to him now during sex, he'd respond more often than not, sometimes even being the one to speak first, something that Ian seemed incredibly proud of him for and often tried to coax more out of him, absolutely loving that he'd become comfortable enough to involve himself more. He also let Ian touch him more, wanting so very much to feel more of his touch anyway and even let Ian kiss him, but never on the face and only if he was sure to be careful, which he was always was. And Mickey secretly relished every single peck and pucker the other man pressed into his skin, embracing the gentle intimacy of Ian's contact, the only time he could. 

Things had changed, rules had slipped and now Mickey just tried to let himself enjoy it, not over think it and completely deny it the way he always did, at least not to himself, and very slowly, very cautiously, not with Ian either. The redhead had even been brave enough to express wanting more from him on more than one occasion, to which Mickey had instantly shot him down, knowing it could just never happen. But he thought maybe this way he could try, and began really putting more effort into things between them, not wanting the other man to give up on him completely. And he still trusted Ian, was still willing to admit even if only to himself that he cared about him, quite a lot, so it'd turned out to be an easier transition than he thought it would be and he was honestly kind of proud of himself for it. It was progress, of some kind.

Ian slid his hand up Mickey's side, pushing the man's shirt up with it, the heat from their skin mixing together between them and he pressed even closer, moving his hips to rock against the other man's ass. The dark haired man let slip a shaky exhale as he felt Ian's lips appear on the back of his neck with a slow, tender kiss and he dropped his head a bit, feeling the redhead begin to speckle more of them across the back of his shoulder as his arm curled more tightly around him. The shudder of sparks each kiss left behind felt like a soft, soothing static on his skin and Mickey bit his lip, refusing to let it tremble, then exhaled again. 

"No marks," Mickey breathed in a quiet whisper, routinely reminding him the way he always did now, not nearly drunk enough to forget. The redhead behind him pressed another gentle peck into his shoulder and exhaled as well. 

"I know," Ian whispered back, the slightest hint of disappointment lacing his voice that the other man tried not to notice, tried not to hear but still just couldn't fucking ignore, twinging his heart with a ping of guilt. 

But he didn't let it dwell, instead offering something else instead, dropping his own arm to wrap over Ian's and pushed himself back into him more firmly, feeling the redhead's heightened heart beat pulsing into his spine. And the other man responded, squeezing tighter and moving his other hand around his body to grasp the thick, hard cock between his legs, beginning to stroke him as he pushed the girth of his own between the firm, round muscles of Mickey's ass. The dark haired man grasped his hand over Ian's and curled his other into a fist against the pillar as a small, breathy moan slipped out from atop his tongue, needing more of him.

Ian kept moving, his own soft melody of needy anxious noises escaping him and he rolled his hips more deeply, feeling the length of his cock sliding through the other man's wanting heat. Mickey grasped the redhead's hand a second time, then brought his arm back to the pillar, simply focusing on the other man's movements, savoring them as they grew more intense. 

His breath stayed heavy as he let himself indulge, let himself enjoy it, these close, quiet moments before they connect physically being some of his favorite with Ian, just being able to feel him and let the other man feel him back in a way neither let any others ever do. The sensations of a hot, damp breath on his neck and the firm, strong grasp of his hands as they ran over his skin and gripped at his muscles were simply intoxicating, quickly becoming things he even craved when the other man wasn't around. There was no touch like Ian's.

The redhead moved his wrapped arm around to Mickey's back as his other fist continued to pump over his cock, then slid a hand over his hip to grasp one side of Mickey's ass with a tight squeeze, spreading him a bit as his cock glided back over him with urge. The dark haired man moaned again quietly, pushed his hips back into him and closed his eyes tight as he felt Ian position himself against his back better, grasping his own cock to guide more pressure into him, teasing him with the slightest pokes and prods. 

Then Mickey felt another rush of tingles engulf him, knitting his brow together with pleasure, then pushed back with urgency, not wanting to wait. So Ian pushed a little further, causing the other man to groan deeply and his head dipped further as all his muscles tensed from the slow, soothing stretch. The redhead then moved his hand back up Mickey's back, the other on the man's cock quickening a bit as he gently rolled hips, not yet moving all the way into him and kissed the back of his neck again, the tip of his tongue twisting into his skin. Mickey's breath shook again as Ian moved his pelvis in small, round circles, slowly trying to work him open with the head of his cock and moaned again quietly. 

"Fuck," he whispered through a heavy breath. 

Ian hummed lowly in response, still caressing the muscles of Mickey's back with a single hand, then slid his palm around yet again to do the same to his chest, still staying slow and careful in his thrusts, in no rush to fill him before MIckey's body would let him. Ian kept kissing him, slowly but surely sliding his cock further into him, but the pace of getting started was starting to make Mickey's insides quake, yearning, urging, needing even more. He arched his back a bit and pushed against Ian once more, nearly hissing from the burn of the other man's cock suddenly gliding into him a bit too quick from his own forceful movement, though it still made him gasp and moan all the same, made him slip a little bit. Ian let a small sudden moan slip as well, not expecting Mickey's movement, just before the latter turned his head and spoke again with a heavy insistence. 

"Fuckin' give it to me, man," Mickey directed, his voice firm and almost demanding, but sounded much like a plea as well, the same overwhelming need still pulsing through his insides, ever-growing.

The other man groaned pleasurably at his words and their tone of urgency, not at all pausing to make him wait any longer, knowing that if Mickey said that he wanted it, he could take it and pushed inside him more deeply, more directly, angling his hips better to fill him up completely. Mickey's fists shook against the pillar, biting down hard on his lip, knowing the moan that clogged his throat was more than loud enough to echo, not wanting to be heard by anyone but the man at his back. Ian's hand moved from stroking Mickey's cock to grasping his hip to give himself better leverage and pulled his pelvis back, then repeated the motion, but just as slowly. 

Mickey could feel Ian's lips parted against his back, with hot, foggy breath in a rhythm that seemed to match his thrusts, the smallest lacing of a moan lingering on each huff. The redhead tightened his grasp on the other man's hip as he set himself into a steady motion, not going completely slow, but still rather relaxed in speed, still gentle almost, something Ian always seemed to do before he really released any sort of pounding on him. Mickey didn't always feel he needed so much prep at times however, rather enjoying the stretch, the burn, the pressure, just the slightest hint of that forbidden, pleasurable pain. But he didn't mind the sex simply lasting longer either. If Ian wanted to spend a little more time fucking him, a little while longer moving, thrusting and pumping deep inside of him, Mickey didn't mind a bit and wanted it just as much.

So he just tried to plant his feet better, not wanting his legs to shake, dipped his head once more, and pressed his ass back into the moving body behind him, just letting Ian fuck him how he wanted to for a while, letting him take his time. The redhead kept his thrusts deep and steady, gradually speeding up a bit, then slid his palms up both sides of the other man's body, gliding past his ribs, up over his shoulders and along his arms to grasp over Mickey's hands, molding his chest and pelvis more firmly into his back. The dark haired man felt his muscles flex as the feeling of the other man covering his body suddenly seemed so safe and secure, a feeling like no other, then spread his fingers to let Ian lace their hands together and twist them back into a grasp. Their breaths and moans began to mix together, growing louder and the redhead sped up again, keeping a smooth pace, but Mickey still wanted more. 

"Harder," he moaned quietly, his own hips stuttering a bit and moving back, trying to meet his Ian's thrusts with more intention, wanting to feel his strength. Then the man behind him suddenly snapped his own hips in a much sharper way, instantly complying with his request like Mickey had read his mind.

"Fuck," Mickey hissed again with a punch, then bit his lip over another harsh moan as the redhead behind him paused, then snapped his hips again a single time. 

"Mickey," Ian whispered through a moany breath of his own, curling his fingers more tightly through Mickey's and leaning in close to his neck to tenderly kiss over more of his skin and inhale his scent.

Even though Mickey had begun to speak to him more while they were intimate, saying Ian's name was something he still just couldn't quite do, unable to work up the nerve to even call him by it to his face, so he just hadn't yet. But he tried to make up for it in letting Ian hear him in other ways, trying not to stifle every single little noise that tried to pass his lips, but instead let them out, let them slip, for Ian. It was also something Mickey had come to realize that he kind of liked himself, every moan, whisper or noise of praise were sounds that no one ever heard but each other, especially Mickey, having never let anyone but Ian fuck him at all. Those little noises were for his ears only and Mickey really hoped it was enough to make up for not being able to say other things, save for the much dirtier things he usually could. The redhead seemed to like those too, so when Mickey felt the urge, he often spoke what was on his mind and was getting used to doing it more and more, knowing no one but Ian could hear him anyway. So, that was something too, right?

The redhead kept rolling his hips into the same hard snap, each one as sharp and deep as he could manage, starting slow and gradually speeding back up. The dark haired man against him nearly trembled again, trying to swallow some of his louder moans and groans so that he didn't get them caught, but still let the quiet ones slip, mixed with small breathy curses and needy little words of praise and pleasure. Ian's breath stayed heavy, each one laced with a deep, throaty moan, then dropped a single arm to curl back around Mickey's waist for a better leverage once more and moved his hips into wide, round circles as he fucked him, slowly turning his movements into a pound.

Mickey was slipping again, letting the shivers, tingles, sparks and flutters consume him and turn his brain all fuzzy, not caring for a moment what he sounded like, his voice punching out loud and high and his eyes stayed clamped shut. He felt himself begin to pulse and quake and clench around his cock, making his own throb as he currently stay untouched, not that he fucking cared, much rather enjoying the intensely pounding pressure of Ian's cock viciously filling him up over and over again. Mickey pressed his forehead against their intertwined fists, then arched his back some as he savored the edge of release, not needing much longer before he goes teetering over it and turned his head just enough to speak through his moans, to let a little slip pass through his lips.

"You fuck me so fuckin' good," Mickey praised, his voice still laced heavily with lust, nearly turning his face away to muffle another loud groan with a sharp bite of his lip, "Always," he added breathily. 

Ian pushed out a deep, lusty hum of his own, pressing the sound into the other man's back, covered it with a kiss and moved his lips back toward his ear with a heavily appealing tone of his own. 

"I love the way you take it," Ian whispered into his skin in reply, the words sending another intense wave of ripply shudders down through Mickey's limbs, enjoying them much more than he'd ever admit, grasping Ian's hand tighter as he let the rush of them flow.

Ian kept up his pace, relentlessly thrusting him with the strength he knew Mickey craved, and the deepness that he craved too, unable to possibly fill him with enough of himself, forever needing to feel more of him in return. His breath started to stutter just as Mickey's started to hitch and Ian pressed his weight farther into him, then reached down for the other man's cock again, Mickey's precum slicking it easily through his fist.

Even though Mickey knew he didn't need it, that he could quite easily cum without his cock being touched at all as long as Ian was fucking him the way he was, he didn't turn it down either, quite enjoying it instead. He nearly even shuddered again, trembled again, slipped again, from just the feeling of his cock being so firmly and eagerly pumped once again within the redhead's grasp, just because it was Ian that was touching him. No one else fucking compared. 

Mickey moaned, groaned and gasped from every fast, hard thrust that Ian contuned to pound into him, and let his eyes flutter open as his face remain dipped down low between his shoulder blades, landing on the pale, freckled fist that still worked over his cock, pulling, tugging, stroking over his thickness and urging him to burst. The sight mixed with the sensation of Ian's lips and tongue still twisting along the back of his neck and the way the redhead's cock began to slide rather roughly over a particularly sensative bundle of nerves hidden deep away inside him, made his balls began to pull and his eyes pressed back shut. 

Ian seemed to read him well, and was close to an orgasm of his own, causing him to stroke Mickey's cock a little faster, thrust into his ass a bit harder and chase it, wanting them to cum together. And Mickey felt all his muscles tense again, hardening over his body with a hot flush of blood, the tingling in his balls rising to the tip of his cock. Then the redhead on his back breathed out another moan as his cock began to pulse through Mickey's quakes, feeling his balls throb as they emptied in hard, sudden spurts, filling him up as much as he could.

The hot, wet sensation of Ian's orgasm inside him and just the right twist of his wrist jerking his cock seemed to make Mickey almost instantly cum too, loving and relishing the feeling of the other man's cum filling him especially, just wanting to take it all. He moaned more loudly and his breath hitched as Ian pumped him through his own spurts of orgasm, through his own sweet, release, painting the pillar in front of them, the way only Ian could make him do and fuck, did it feel perfect. 

There were a few more heavy breaths and winded moans, the redhead finally slowing and stopping as the man against the pillar tried to catch his breath. Ian stayed inside him for a moment, paused, until the radiating pulse from both their bodies finally ceased, then pulled out of him very slowly, offering one final, wet kiss to the back of Mickey's neck as he did and took a step back. 

The dark haired man took another breath, then stepped back himself to grasp the top his pants and pulled them back up, then pulled his shirt back down his body as he turned around to see Ian dressing and readjusting as well. Then Mickey just let himself look again, not nearly as ashamed of their private interactions when they were alone, especially with a bit of booze in his system and a fresh, raw soreness in his ass. Blue eyes shimmered over the redhead much more fondly in the dark than they ever would in the light and Mickey arched an eyebrow with a smirk while he had the guts to do it. 

"Fuck, that was good," said Mickey, still a bit breathy, but his gaze very admiring, not knowing how the fuck he could have possibly gone two whole days without seeing him, "We gotta fuckin' do that shit more often," he insisted, then reached down into his pocket for his cigarettes. The other man chuckled as he reached for both their hoodies, tossing Mickey's over to him before he lit the smoke now resting between his lips. 

"Five or six days a week at work isn't enough, huh?" Ian replied, his face flattered and amused, though his tone was a bit smug. But Mickey didn't want to hide how he really felt, not now, even if he thought he should. This was a slip that was worth it. 

"Never," replied Mickey, trying to sound genuine as he spoke, really hoping the redhead would understand how much he really meant it, not just for the sex either, but just for him. Though Mickey still smirked a bit seductively to cover a bit of the softness in his gaze, not letting his shell break completely, not slipping too far. Ian genuinely smiled as he shrugged on his hoodie and finished buttoning his jeans, watching Mickey pull his hoodie onto his shoulders as well, then tipped his chin.

"Well, you always have my number, Mick," said Ian with invite, not seeming to turn him down at all, making a small collection of flutters floating inside Mickey's chest dance and purr with a happiness he'd never admit.

The dark haired man thumbed his lip, but offered a chin tip, then pulled a drag from his smoke as he watched the other man walk back toward the dumpster and reached for the whiskey bottle they'd left there. Mickey exhaled with a brow crease, then chuckled as he walked up behind him and pointed to it. 

"You do know you ain't keepin' that fuckin' bottle though, right?" asked Mickey with a friendly, yet cocky grin, entirely serious in his statement. Ian just laughed, offered a nod like he didn't seem to care much, then tipped the bottle back on his lips to take a single, deep swig before passing it over. 

"Sure, Mickey," Ian grinned as he held it out and the other man took it, watching as he took a gulp and well, then puffed his smoke again. 

Then they both just seemed to walk together back the way they'd both separately arrived, Mickey passing over his cigarette for Ian to hit as they did, neither really saying too much, not feeling the need to. These moments just after seemed to be getting easier for both of them, a bit more casual and not nearly as awkward, still seeing each other as the same people they were before they engaged in such a personal and intimate act together. Now Mickey didn't really mind the small talk afterward and was able to look at Ian without feeling ashamed and exposed for letting him perform such vulnerable acts on him. He knew that Ian actually cared about him and never saw him any differently and that really seemed to help. 

They shared the cigarette for the short walk back to the sidewalk next to Mickey's house where they would have to split and part ways for the night, to which the dark haired man offered the redhead a final swig of whiskey, but Ian just shook his head. Mickey took one instead as Ian pulled a final puff of smoke, then exhaled as he handed it back over, to which the other man sucked down a drag of his own, then blew two thick plumes through his nose. 

"See you at work tomorrow?" Ian asked, with a hopeful raise of his brow that Mickey very much noticed, but refused to acknowledge, offering a simple nod instead. 

"Gotta keep makin' the fuckin' money somehow, man," he replied with a very easy, but still rather obvious tone and stood smoking his cigarette with his bottle in his fist. Then Ian's eyes trailed down over him a bit an he tipped his chin again.

"If your ass isn't too sore, maybe you'll let me ride it again then, huh?" Ian queried quite bodly with a grin. 

Mickey raised his eyebrows slightly as he exhaled, caught off guard again by how forward the other man seemed to be about so many things lately and chewed his lip for a second. Then he just thought again for an instant, reminding himself that it was okay, glancing toward his house for a second to assure him he was safe, knowing neither his father nor his brothers were anywhere near it right now, far away from Chicago and couldn't hear them at all, couldn't see his slips. Then he looked back at Ian with a shrug before taking a gulp of booze. 

"When do I ever turn down a chance to fuckin' bang?" Mickey asked back, then took a swallow, trying to appear as confident and nonchalant as he could, knowing how much Ian seemed to like when he was. The redhead held his smile, have another nod as he looked over him quite fondly once last time, then took a step back. 

"Goodnight, Mickey," said Ian. The other man let himself smirk back, sucked another drag and blew it out. 

"Fuck off, Gallagher," said Mickey, his tone much more affectionate than heated and watched as the redhead chuckled, then turned away to walk back down the dimly lit street and disappeared into the night.

The other man remained alone where he stood for a moment, thinking of the man who'd just left him behind, his face, his eyes, the feel of his touch, then turned away with another gulp from his bottle to close the distance toward his house, letting his mind wander again as he did. 

Things really were good with Ian lately and because of that, along with a few other things that didn't quite matter to him as much, Mickey's mood had definitely changed in recent weeks, and maybe deep down he was changing too. There had always sort of been something about the other man that caught his eye, possessed his mind and made his pores tremble at the thought of his contact, something that no one else had ever done to him before. Ian was able to make Mickey do things, say things, feel things that he'd never shared with anyone else, able to make him break so many rules, rethink so many things and have so many fucking slips that Mickey simply didn't know what to do with himself at times.

Even though whatever he and Ian had between them was still a secret, the deepest, darkest secret he'd ever had, it was still something Mickey so deeply cherished, still something he'd fight to the death to protect, something that was so much more special to him than anything else he'd ever had in his life. And with time, Mickey really hoped he could give Ian what he wanted, give him more, the kind of more he always so hopefully asked for yet so painfully never received. Ian deserved better than that and honestly so did he.

But Mickey was getting there, slowly getting there, learning, growing, evolving and hoping one day that all his efforts and all the struggles against all the little slips might finally be worth it, thinking they had to be, if he'd just give it time.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this fic!  
> I'd love to hear your thoughts! :)  
> Any and all feedback is greatly appreciated!  
> Thank you for reading!


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